


Shelter

by RavensWing



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: F/M, Modern AU, abusive relationship stuff, because that is what this author likes, disfunctional frohana, gruff and grumpy kristoff, hans/anna is a past relationship, if you only read one thing i have ever written - please don't make it this, single mom Anna, so if that is triggering definitely stay away
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2019-11-16 06:07:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18088874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavensWing/pseuds/RavensWing
Summary: Her mind is a dizzy whirl of schedules and conflicts and she is just not sure how she can make this all work.But she can.She will.She has to.It's just that she never saw him coming.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Being 100% honest that this will probably never get updating with any regularity and that it is just a total guilty pleasure piece for me. So probably don't read it. Okay. Bye.

Her hands shake as she sets her phone back on the counter. The pen in the other hand trembles above the pad of paper next to it as she looks at the date and time she had scribbled during the call. 

_ We got in. _

The thought loops in her brain and as the initial shock of it fades a smile rips across her face. 

“Who was that, mom?” A sticky-faced first grader asks from the folding table across the kitchen, feet dangling as she does her homework. 

Anna presses a hand against the butterflies in her stomach - feeling the words that will change their lives bubble up. 

“It was the house people.” Now she has two identical pairs of eyes on her and she sees the mirror spark of excitement ignite in them at her words. “We got in, babies! We’re going to get a house!”

She lets her daughter knock her to the floor into a pile of giggles and tries to not let the fact that her son does not join dampen her joy.

….

“We’ve got all your papers in order now.” Gerda, her coordinator slips the last signed page into Anna’s folder with smile. “So now we have to discuss how you’re going to cover your sweat equity hours.” 

“Oh. I am ready to get started right away.”

Gerda, a woman old enough to have heard this same sentiment a few thousand times, smiles. 

“Now this is hard work.” Her tone is gentle. “And you have two young ones.”

“They’re in school during the day - and there are after-school programs I can enroll them in if I need to.”

She hears her own voice - so eager it hurts.

“We require four hundred hours.”

“I know and I am ready to do whatever it takes -”

“I know you are, dear. That’s why you were selected.” Gerda clasps her plump hands on top of the desk across from Anna. A well worn crease forms between her brows. “I’ve seen a lot of people come through here wanting to conquer the world in a week, but this is the long haul. We’re talking at least a six-month commitment, probably closer to a year, and on top of working towards your certification and raising children on your own -”

“I can do it.” She has been rebuilding her life from the ground up for the last four years - building a house cannot be that much different. “I can do it.”

Gerda’s lips purse. “It is just very important that you understand the length and seriousness of this commitment before we begin. If you back out at any point there will be no recuperation for any of the hours you put in.”

“I won’t back out.”

“Ms. Arendal - “

“I won’t.”

Two breaths then: “Fine enough. Then if you feel you understand what is required of you all I need is a signature here.”

Gerda pushes one last page to Anna’s side of the table. Anna signs.

“All right then.” Gerda takes the page before the ink even dries and passes a thick packet to Anna. “Here is your work assignment as well as rules and regulations. I am available for questions during normal office hours - but your best bet will be to direct your questions towards your site supervisor.”

Anna flips open the first page and finds a name.

_ Kristoff Bjorgman _

“Got it.” She closes the packet and smiles. “I can’t wait to start.”

….

“And remember today you are going home with Miss Ariel and Melody.” 

It’s a brisk Tuesday morning, spring not quite ready to stick, as Anna waits for the crosswalk signal to change. Her palms are clasped tightly around small mismatched-mittens as the red hand flashes to a white stick figure. 

“We know, mom.” It’s her son, Aiden, and she doesn’t even have to look down to know he is rolling his eyes. Six-years-old going on sixteen - she winces but lets his sass slide this time. They’re running late as it is.

“Miss Ariel will help you with homework and feed you dinner and I’ll be over to pick you up as soon as I can.”

“It’s going to be so fun!” Brantley says from the other side of her, red braid swinging. “Can we have dessert?” 

“It’s a school night. Miss Ariel has the same rules we do about desserts on school nights.” Anna squeezes her daughter’s hand, palm warm through the worn wool. 

“It’d probably be something dumb like fruit anyway.” Aiden pulls his hand away as they step onto the opposite sidewalk. 

“Nuhuh! Mom tell him to stop being such a grouch.” 

Anna’s head swims. It is not even half past seven in the morning and she is already exhausted. Gerda’s warning about taking on too much pops into her mind, but she shoves it aside. She has to do this - not just for her children but for herself, too. She needs to prove to herself that she can do this. 

“Aiden - honey - this is just how it’s going to be for a little while ” She has already explained ad nauseum to the twins that she cannot take them to the job site. As expected - one took it better than the other. 

“Yeah? Well it sucks.”

Anna bites her lip. Aiden knows better than to use that word and she knows he is just trying to get a reaction out of her, so she tries to not let it show that it does. Instead she looks at him - his auburn hair poking out at all angles. How he has both the best and worst qualities of his father will always amaze her. 

“It will get better. Things will just be a little harder for awhile.”

Aiden mumbles something under his breath, but she does not catch it. She does not even try. When they get to school - only Brantley kisses her goodbye.

….

She parks two blocks down the street from the site and runs. 

“Are you Anna?” She hears a voice ask when she finally stumbles onto the site. 

She turns towards the sound and is nearly blinded by the low afternoon sun. She squints and shields her eyes (from the sun and something else) but she still cannot make out more than a large shadow. The air is brisk but she is sweating, nerves working against her. It takes all of her courage to not step back.

“Yes. I am. I’m Anna.” She swallows panic.

“You’re late.” 

She deduces that this must be the site manager -  _ Christopher _ ? She cannot quite remember from the papers, learned panic erasing her train of thought, and she can’t quite get everything in focus when her head and heart are spinning. 

“I know. I’m sorry. My last client likes to talk and - “ She makes excuses all while digging her heels in against retreat. 

He isn’t that kind of guy.

At least she doesn’t think so.

At least she won’t let him be. She takes a deep breath.

“You can pick up trash today.” He cuts her off before she even has a chance and it catches her off guard. Her tongue ties. “The dumpster is over there.” He points. “Ask someone to make sure before you throw any scrap in there. It may be usable, and don’t forget to check in to get your hours.” 

Just as quickly as he appeared, he is gone and she is left slightly dumbfounded. She was uncertain just what she had expected as a welcome but that certainly was not it. She squares her shoulders anyway and looks around. The site is not exactly messy but she can tell there is clean-up to be done. She checks the time on her watch, makes note, and sets to work.

….

She’s lugging a discarded pallet towards the dumpster, muscles straining, hands burning. 

“Hey!” 

She hears the call but does not respond. No one here knows her well enough to hale her. 

“Hey you!”

It is closer now, close enough that she looks up from her task to find someone striding towards her. The setting sun lights sets the fringe of blonde hair poking out from under his hard hat on fire. Frost edges his breath, pours from his mouth and she had forgotten how cold it is getting with the sun’s retirement. She’s only been on site an hour but she knows that this is the man who greeted her (site supervisor and from what she can tell total jerk) and the look on his face is none-too-happy.

“What are you doing with that?” He asks as he approaches her, adjusting the worn tool belt at his hip 

“Taking it to the dumpster?” it comes out far more as a question than she wanted. 

“Don’t. It doesn’t go there.”

“Where does it go?” 

He is close enough now that he grabs the pallet from her hands as if it was a butterfly’s wing and she meets hard brown eyes. She tries not to flinch but her inside are quaking. 

“I can take it if you’d just tell me -”

“If you wanna know you can follow  _ me.” _

He turns on a heel and she is left shaking in her thrift store work boots for one moment at his abruptness before she finds the strength to follow.

\------

The next few hours go without incident. Everyone else on site seems to at least be pleasant and she hopes that whatever Christopher’s problem is that it will be resolved by the next time she sees him, but she isn’t holding her breath. She has experience with men and the depth of their moods, catered to them for longer than she should have, but she is done with that now.

By the time she goes to pick up the twins from Ariel’s she has all but put the gruff site manager out of her mind. 

\------

The next morning she is introduced to a new level of soreness. Even her fingers ache which is not good considering she had to give two facials and three Swedish massages today. She pops four Aspirin with her coffee and stretches at the kitchen counter. 

“What’s the matter, momma?” Brantley swings her feet as she spills more cereal than she eats. 

Anna smiles through a wince. “Nothing, baby. Just sore from yesterday.”

“From building our new house?” 

“No. Not our house,” Anna looks at the clock. They are running late. “I have to help build another house before I can build ours.”

Aiden snorts. Anna pretends not to notice. 

“When do you get to build our house?” Brantley asks and Anna wishes she had an exact date, but she doesn’t. 

“I’m not sure baby, but I am working really hard to make it as soon as possible.” 

“That’s so dumb.” Aiden swings his leg too hard and kicks Brantley under the table (whether on purpose or on accident Anna will never know) and Brantley yelps. 

“Mom! Aiden kicked me!” Brantley’s eyes already well with tears and Anna wishes she could climb back into bed and start over. 

“He didn’t mean to. Did you Aiden?”

Aiden shrugs and stares into his cereal. Brantley’s bottom lip trembles. Anna wants to set herself on fire, but instead she goes and ruffles her daughter’s hair.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. The table is small and he didn’t mean it. Did you, Aiden?” Anna pulls out her mom voice and it brings just enough attention from her firstborn for him to shake his head the negative.

Brantley sniffles. Her cereal bowl is almost empty.

“How about two more bites and then brush teeth, okay? We have to leave soon.”

Brantley shovels two spoonfuls of mostly sugary milk into her mouth and skips down the hallway of their apartment to the bathroom. Aiden stirs his spoon. 

“You too, kiddo.” She takes the one step to the table (small kitchens had their benefits) and reaches to ruffle auburn hair, but he dodges her touch. He shoves back from the table.  

He starts down the hall, but not before she hears him mutter: “If you’d just made it work with dad you wouldn’t have to build a dumb house.” 

A secret part of her heart crumbles.

If only she had….

She shakes her head. No. That wasn’t an option then and it isn’t an option now. She grabs their cereal bowls and takes them to the sink to scrub them. She may not have much control over her world, but she can control if her sink is clean or not. 

She focuses on that. 

\------

She has never wished to die. She never will, but today - oh - today - she pops six Aspirin.

Aiden will not get dressed. Brantley forgot to finish a page of her homework and is certain now she will mess up her marks and is sobbing. Anna wants to cry, too, but there are things to do and clocks to punch and she has to try to pretend she care when all she wants to do is quit. She wants to curl up and sleep for decades, but she won’t. 

She can’t. 

She doesn’t.

It is a miracle they all get out the door with pants on.

\------

It’s her fifth consecutive day on site and she has managed to avoid Christopher until now. She’s kept a careful distance since her first day, deferring instead to the assistant supervisors, not wanting to incur his wrath or be perpetually stuck on trash duty. He approaches her as she sands a windowsill.

“You should wear gloves.” He nods at the bandages on her hands where blisters had popped up from the rough work. “It helps.”

She is dumbstruck at first, surprised, then: “I don’t have any.”

He is doesn’t ask why. That level of sensitivity she can only attribute to him being used to that on this job. 

“There are extra pairs in the bed of my truck. It’s the blue chevy right there.” He gestures with his head. “Help yourself, just make sure you return them.” He points at the tool in her hand.“While you’re at it go switch out your sanding block. You’re using the wrong grain. You should be using medium.”

And with that he is off and she is left with her head spinning. She watches him go join some other workers as they put finishing touches on the framework and sits there with mind whirring. She only allows herself a moment though before she shakes herself out of it and moves. She won’t over think it, this random kindness, even though she wants to. No. She will do what she is told. She will get a house for her children. 

But when she finds his truck and the leather gloves just as he said there would be (women’s sizes included) she can’t help but wonder if she had judged him a little too quickly. 

\------

She forgets what time off means. She thought she had known busy as a single parent before she started with Habitat. Gerda’s warning resonates now, one week in. 

_ I’ve seen a lot of people come through here wanting to conquer the world in a week, but this is the long haul. _

It is a Saturday morning. Every inch of her body throbs. Her friends Belle and Adam had agreed to take Aiden and Brantley so she could be on site today and log some real hours. 

She rolls to her side and plants her feet on the ground with head swimming. 

Tears well in her eyes unbidden. She pushes them back.

This is just the first chapter of this new part of her life.

She has had many new chapters, new parts.

Each has brought their own pain.

This is no different.

She stumbles to the bathroom, sun still sleeping, and flips on the light. She grabs the Aspirin and dry swallows four tablets. 

Today is going to be a very long day.

_____

It is lunch on site (her first yet) and she forgot to pack one. Between trying to get the twins ready for the day and her exhaustion she had forgotten to pack food (not that the selection in her cupboard was great but it was better than nothing). She is four hours into an eight hour shift and all she has to eat are the fruit snacks she had stashed at the bottom of her purse for the twins. 

She eats them quietly on the outskirts during break, trying to not draw attention, trying to not worry about her aching stomach. Then:

“Hey. Why are you eating all by yourself?” It is the lovely young woman she had noticed from one of her first days on site but had not yet met. 

Anna just shrugs. She’d kept to herself since arriving, not mixing with the others, not sure if she was allowed to or if she was okay with allowing herself to. 

“Get your behind over here!” The other woman waves and Anna hates to deny but also hates to let them know her failure, to let them know she has no lunch to eat.

Still she goes, uncertain how to deny, and sits as far aways as she can without being rude.

She has seen all of these workers at different times during the week, but they are all here now. She does not know if they are staff laborers or placement seekers like herself. Still, she smiles and tries to act like she belongs.

“Hi,” she waves low from her lap and everyone smiles. 

“I’m Tiana,” the invitation giver offers introduction, dark curls falling into hazel eyes.

“I’m Anna.”

“You getting yourself a house?”

Anna blinks, the abruptness of her new acquaintance startling, but she nods her head.

“Good. I am too. Fact is all of us are. You are either going to see me or Naveen - that’s my husband - on this site till one of us drops dead or catches on fire.”

She looks at the ragtag group for the first time in earnest. She’d been so focused on the work that she had failed to notice how many of them  have the same second hand clothes and dime store boots she does For the first time she breathes a little easier. She’d known that others would be working on the site but she had somehow missed the connection that they might be just like her. 

“I’ve only just started but it feels like I’ve been at it for years.” Anna laughs a bit, but it falls flat. 

Tiana’s face is serious.

“Days like that come often, but you have to remember why you started. Write it down. Stick it to your bathroom mirror and don’t let anything stop you.”

This woman’s determination sends shocks through her and she sees the mark of struggle on her face the same as she feels inside. Anna thinks of her children. She thinks of the life they had before she’d left their father. She remembers that final night when -

She clenches her fists and forces a smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t forget.”

Tiana smiles knowingly and shares her hard boiled eggs with her.

\------

The spa smells like lavender and money. She knows she is lucky to have landed this job out of school but still she cannot help but feel the weight of it. The clientele, the volume, the pressure to bring in more clients.... It alls adds up. 

Ariel comes in between appointments, a lunch break she wishes she could just push through and work but has to take.

“How are you?” Her lilting accent is unnoticed by Anna, by everyone else at the spa who used to work with her. They are used to it.

“Fine.” She takes the salad Ariel offers her. It isn’t quite warm outside yet, but where they sit on the bench a few doors down from the spa the sun makes up for the difference.  

“Yes?” The way she phrases it as a question makes Anna feels defensive, 

“I’m. Fine.” She stuffs salad into her mouth as if to prove a point. 

“Okay.”

They eat in silence for several strained bites, then:

“Aiden isn’t doing well.”

Anna has to hold back the  _ REALLY?!   _ that is brewing beneath her skin because she knows. She knows more than Ariel wants to imagine, and even the silent admission from someone else make it more real somehow. Ten million doubts and questions assaulted her at once. She is not enough, she cannot be enough, she is failing her children, if she had just made it work with - 

She shuts that train of thought down.

Ariel shut that down with her preternatural understanding: “I know.”

They eat more salad before she continues with:

“He asks about Ha - uh - his father.” Ariel stumbles a bit, her native tongue different than Anna’s and there are moments of translation - transition - where her polite nature wars with her curiosity. 

Even with her friend’s tacit strategy - it is salt in the wound.

All she has done in the last three years is try to get past that - try to get past  _ him - _ but she has made her choices and he is one of them. She has come to accept that. She chews and swallows a hefty bite of romaine.

“He’s mad at me. He doesn’t remember anything. He doesn’t understand.”

Ariel is silent then. They haven’t covered much of her marriage, but enough that Ariel understands what she means. She reached out and grips Anna’s forearm, stills her eating, and looks her dead in the eye.

“You did the right thing.”

Anna wants to melt into the reassurance, to snuggle down tight and swallow it so that all she feels inside and out is safe and warm and right, but all she feels is cold. All she feels is worn. All she feels is sore. 

She looks back at the salad Ariel brought her, suddenly uninterested.

“I know.”

“Have you ever - you know - thought about talking to him about it now that he is older? Telling him why his father isn’t around and where he is now?” 

Anna shakes her head. Those who know her best, who know the truth, occasionally ask her this, but she is not ready. It is just easier to take the blame than it is to tell her children the truth, to let tell them their mother is a coward and their father a criminal. 

“He wouldn’t understand.” 

Ariel is quiet for a moment, taking a few bites, then: “He is your kid so you have to do what you think is right, but I think if you ever tried to explain you would be surprised.” 

Anna stabs at her salad, suddenly very not hungry. 

“Yeah?” She mumbles. “Too bad I hate surprises.”

\-----

She is massaging one of her (very few) regulars when there is a gentle rap at the door. The spa typically never interrupts a session unless something is urgent. She murmurs a quick reassurance to her octogenarian client (whom she is fairly certain is asleep) before slipping into the dim corridor where the salon coordinator relays the news. 

Aiden is in the principal’s office. 

Again.

She takes the call and arranges a meeting - head pounding.

She returns to the small, dark room she works on and to the massage she had been giving but she can hardly focus. Her mind is a dizzy whirl of schedules and conflicts and she is just not sure how she can make this all work.

But she can.

She will.

She has to. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

She always tried to be one of the last workers on site which has it advantages and disadvantages.

The advantage is that every minute counts towards her sweat equity.

The disadvantage is that when her car won’t start - she is out of luck when it comes to asking her slowly developing friends group for help.

She slams open palms against the steering wheel and holds back a screaming sob. There have been a few lurching mornings or moments where she has had to grind the ignition to life, but this is the first time it has been been completely out of luck. It’s the end of the month too so the pay-by-minute cell phone in her purse is at zero and she has every instinct to take it and chuck it into the bushes but she can’t do that. A new phone would cost her fifty dollars at least and she needs that fifty bucks to buy groceries for her family and her stomach sinks to a new low when she realizes she can’t drive to the store, much less work, if her car won’t start.

They will be back on the bus and the idea that trying to navigate the bus schedule on top of everything else is enough to break her.

She has to do something or her car is not the only thing that is going to be broken down.

She reaches down beneath the steering wheel and pops the hood. She gets out and fiddles with the latch until it releases. She lifts the rusted metal and props it up with a metal brace that has seen better days.

She doesn’t know where to start. She doesn’t know anything much about cars. In her past life it had been taken care of for her. She hadn’t even pumped gas until she was twenty one so the mass of metal and tubes and belts all just looked like a horrifying mess of metallic guts. She’d have better chance of naming all the organs in her body than she would of naming all the parts she saw.

Hot tears burn her eyes. If only she could call her -

“Need a jump?”

His voice startles her. She jumps up and bangs her head on the hood. “Gosh dang this mother fudging…!”

She grabs the throbbing spot on the back of her head, sure to become a lump, and catches him watching her with bewilderment. She tries to pull herself taller, stronger, so that he has no reason to pity her.

“Knock yourself out.” She won’t admit defeat even though she feels it. Good glory does she feel it.

She rubs her goose egg while he walks to his truck down the way. A few moments later he is back and rummaging through the lockbox in the bed of his truck. He pulls out thick red and black cables and goes to pop his hood. She watches. She needs to know how to do this because she knows her car situation won’t be changing any time soon.

They are on the side of the road, his truck going the wrong way, parked in front of hers. The engine is so much higher than hers on his lifted bed that she wonders if the cords will reach.

He hooks them to his battery before coming to find hers. She watches his face as he grimaces at the blue powder gathered on her terminals.

“Your battery is corroded. When was the last time you changed it?”

It’s a punch to the gut and she is reeling. She doesn’t know how to answer, doesn’t want to make him angry, doesn’t want to lie…

“I - uh - “ She takes a step back, heel scuffing the blacktop.

“If you have a chance you should look at getting this replaced as well as your connectors. They are shot.”

It isn’t cruel or accusatory, just facts, and she waits for the second blow to fall. She waits for the accusations, the insults, but they never come. Instead he goes back to the bed of his truck and brings out something that looks like a dinosaur’s toothbrush and pulls of some gloves. He uses it to brush off a good amount of the corrosion and then hooks the jump wires to their appropriate terminals before starting his engine from the cab of his truck.

Her head still throbs, but she pretends it doesn’t matter.

He’s being nice.

That doesn’t mean he is will stay nice.

“Try to start your car!” Christopher calls from his cab and she obeys.

She turns the key, but is not even met with a click. She knows that isn’t good.

“Wait ten seconds then try again.” He yells.

She does as he says.

Still nothing.

“Okay. Just wait a minute.” He kills his engine and pops out.

He detaches the cables from her battery, sparks flying when the live ends touch each other accidentally as he tosses them to the ground, and really get in there with the dinosaur toothbrush. He makes a gutteral sound in his throat and she doesn’t know if that is good or bad, if she should offer to help or not, doesn’t want to make him angry, so she stays still and silent in her seat until he reattached his cables and goes back to his cab.

Christopher turns back on his engine.

A few moments pass. “Try it now!”

She does and there is nothing.

Her heart jumps to her throat.

If she cannot get her car to start… her eyes burn. She doesn’t know how to fix this. There is no time, no money, no chance…

He kills his engine and pops out. He unhooks the cables and puts them in his lock box before coming over to where she sits.

“You probably just need a new battery, but it looks like this thing has seen better days.” It is a simple sentence but it is enough to send two tears down her cheeks.

She nods to shake them off, refuses to wipe them and give away her vulnerability. “Figured.”

He shifts his weight, awkward hands shoved into his pockets.

“Need a ride?”

She almost laughs, a choked bubbled in her throat, and shakes her head. “My kids are with friends. I need to find a gas station or something so I can call and tell them I’ll be late.”

She can just see the scorn on Aiden’s face whenever she finally does get there to pick them up.

The sun is almost gone and she has no idea where the nearest gas station might be to this location, but she isn’t going to show weakness. She isn’t going to let him feel sorry for her.

“If you need to call someone you can use my phone.” He reaches into his toolbelt and pulls out a brick of a phone in a heavy duty rubber case. He activates the screen and swipes in his code.

He thrusts it in her direction, clearly not comfortable, but not running either.

“No it’s okay. Thanks for you help but - “ She takes a step back.

“Just make the call.” It’s not angry or hard but on a gust of breath that is just as startling.

She cannot tell if he is frustrated or tired or just in a hurry to get this show on the road, but he doesn’t quite meet her eyes and she doesn’t quite know what to make of him so she takes it. They seem equally unsettled by this offer but not really sure she has any other choice.

She sees all the familiar apps that litter most smart phones overlaying a picture of a woman. She is blonde, long hair waving around her face, and her blue eyes sparkle as she laughs at the photographer. She reminds her of Elsa but Anna shakes off that thought and moves on. She thinks instead that she is very beautiful and that this woman must be his wife. He doesn’t wear a ring, but she remembers from the introduction literature that all jewelry should be left at home as it could get caught or damaged on the site.

Somehow the idea of him having a wife is a relief. It makes her feel slightly less seen and she likes that. Still her hands shake as she keys in Ariel’s number and prays she answers.

On the fifth ring she does.

“Hello?”

“Hey! It’s Anna.” She can hear the kids playing in the background.

“Hey! I didn’t recognize the number but I wondered. Whose phone is this?”

“My site manager’s.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Sorry, I’m sorry. I’m having some car trouble. Can the kids stay with you a little later?” Anna’s eyes catch on where Christopher is poking around under her hood a bit more very clearly trying to give her space.

“Of course. What’s up with your car?”

“I don’t know. It won’t start. Battery maybe.” She plugs her other ear and steps away a bit into the quiet street. “I’m probably going to have to get it towed.”

“Oh no. Anna. I am so sorry. If there is anything we can do…”

“No. Don’t worry about it. You already do way too much for me. If you can just watch them till I get this figured out -”

“Absolutely. They can spend the night if they need to.”  

Anna grimaces. Aiden would hate that. “Thank you so much. I hope it doesn’t come to that but thank you. I don’t know how I could ever repay you.”

“Once you have you have your house you can bet that Eric and I will be dropping off Melody every Friday night like clockwork.” She is teasing and Anna feels the hint of a smile.  

“Deal. Okay. Well I better get this figured out so I’m going to let you go, but I’ll keep you posted.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to send Eric over? Or I could pack up the kids and come get you?”

The offer is tempting but then she still wouldn’t have solved anything with her car. “I’ll let you know but for now I think I’m going to try to get this sorted first.”

“Okay. But be safe. It’s getting dark.”

“I know. Don’t worry. I won’t do anything stupid.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

They end the conversation and she is greeted again with the face of a smiling blonde obscured by apps. She wonders what her name is but knows better than to ask. Christopher has already made it pretty clear he is not interested in small talk.

She goes to where he is fiddling with the confusing mess of wires, cables, and parts beneath the hood of her car. She hands him back his phone. He takes it without comment. Even with the distance she knows he heard every word of what was said.

He looks over over his shoulder as if something under her hood had said something, large hand rubbing the back of his neck.  

“Look - I have a guy - he owes me a few favors.”

“Oh I couldn’t ask you to -” she knows where this is going, doesn’t want his pity, but he talks right over her.

“It’s not a big deal -”

“You’ve already helped so much -”

“I’m not going to just leave you here with a busted car okay?” He forks his fingers through thick blonde hair and she can hear the frustration creeping into his tone. The hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, her throat closes, and she steps back. “Just give me one second, okay?”

He steps off with his phone to make a call and she tries to get her heart to slow to a normal rhythm.

She doesn’t know where he thinks she will go, but each moment of fading daylight makes her more anxious to start walking towards somewhere she can get less complicated help. The kind of help that doesn’t come with strings, or strangers, or her having to let any man within ten feet of her.

The conversation is short enough that she does not have time to go much further into that dark rabbit hole of her mind. He is back and speaking, pulling her back:

“He can’t make it today, but he can tomorrow. Your car will be fine here till then.”

It is simultaneously a relief and a burden. She knows she will not be getting her car fixed tonight by any measure but still that is just one problem of several this presents.

Still she forces a smile despite her shaking nerves.

“Thank you. That is - that is really - you know just - just so, so kind. Thank you. And I’ll pay you - I’ll pay you both when I can. And I can. I can if you can wait till next Friday - but I want to make this right. I want to - to - well - thank you?”

She sounds like an idiot.

She knows she sounds like an idiot, her thoughts too quick and scattered to make any sense.

He is looking at her with a funny crease between thick brows. He shakes his head just slightly.

“Look. Don’t worry about it.” He shoves his hands into his back pockets, rocking onto the heels of heavy work boots. “What part of town do you live in?”

She blinks at the question, not sure what he is asking. Distrust brews in the corner of her mind. “Why?”

He looks up at the darkening sky and nods.

“I’ll give you a ride.”

Of all the reasons she expected him to ask about where she lived - somehow this one hardly registered. She glances at his truck, enormous, but she knows once those doors are shut and she is inside -

“Oh no. I couldn’t.” It comes out on a burst of air, too fast and panicked to be reasonable, and she stammers. “M-my kids - you’d have to pick them up too and - well - it w - would be way too much - their car seats -”

He peers towards her backseat and sees the identical boosters. He sighs.

“Look,” he sounds tired. “I’m not leaving you here by yourself. So grab the car seats and get in the truck, okay? It’ll work just fine.”

She meets his eyes and looks for the expression she has been trained to find - the disdain and anger and promise of worse later - but finds none of it. All she finds is a man who looks like he might be just about as exhausted as she is and she really does not want to bother Ariel anymore so…

“Okay.”

She opens the one working backdoor on her car and wrangles the booster seats despite aching muscles. She puts them on the street before she manually presses the locks down on each door, double checks she has her essentials, and scoots out of the back seat to shut the door.

He already has the car seats in the back of his extended cab. She hadn’t noticed him take them while she locked up and she blinks a moment trying to let her brain catch up. She must have taken longer than a moment because he looks at her from where he has just climbed out of the cab with the car seats like he isn’t entirely sure she isn’t crazy and jerks his head towards the passenger seat.

She mentally double checks that she has everything she needs, that everything is closed and locked or on her person, before walking to his truck on gelatin knees.

It takes her two breaths to get the courage to hoist herself into the cabin. The height of the vehicle is so foreign to her own compact rust bucket. He revs the engine to life before she even has the door shut.

“Where am I going?” He asks as she buckles her seat belt.

She gives him Ariel’s address and he enters it into his phone before setting it on the car mount and plugging it in. The GPS readout says thirteen minutes and Anna is counting it down.

She knows just how much can change in thirteen minutes.

The roar of his truck’s engine and the faint chatter of his radio fill the space between them but she swears she can still feel the silence. She shifts, uncomfortable, gripping the cross belt over her chest in fervent hands and counting seconds. She does not know if he notes her discomfort but he clears his throat and she can see him holding his steering wheel much the same way she is clutching her seat belt.

“So. You have kids.” He taps large fingers on his steering wheel.

“Yes. Twins, actually. Kind of a two-for-one special,” she laughs but it sounds forced, frantic. She never imagined she would ever have this conversation with him.

“How old?”

“Six.”

The road rolls under his tires.

“Do they have names?”

She smiles just thinking of her babies, her shining stars on dark days, and her voice softens. “Aiden and Brantley.”

“Aiden and Brantley,” he lets out a huff. “A and B. You plan that?”

And just as quickly as she had relaxed at the thought of her children a cold sweat breaks out on Anna’s back. She gives a nervous laugh. “Their father did. He wanted to go down the alphabet.”

He grunts, looking over his shoulder as he merges. “You’d think he’d have done it better.”

She does not understand what he means. Her brow furrows.

“What?”

“Well - you’re already an ‘A’. If he was trying to do something alphabetical then Aiden would have been redundant.”

Her mind swims. She is not ready to explain this, never would have expected him to pick up on that so quickly.

She forces another laugh, hiding her discomfort. “Yeah. It would’ve.”

He looks at his GPS, making sure he is on track, maybe only partially listening: “Why wouldn’t it be? Your name’s Anna, right?”

She coughs into her sleeve, cheeks flaming. “Yeah - but he - uh - my ex - he called me something else.”

She has never said that out loud to anyone since she started using her given name again. She has never given voice to the obscenity that was her nullification. To even admit it - especially to this man she hardly knows - who so clearly views her as incapable - makes her insides quake. What could he possibly think of her now? She may be walking to Ariel’s afterall.

The pavement under the tires keeps rhythm for a few seconds. Then:

“What did he call you?”

It is not what she expects. She whips her face towards him, but he is not looking at her. He is watching the road and she studies his profile. He has broad features, everything about him oversized and prominent, and she thinks of the woman on his phone’s background. She wonders if she is as happy with him when the camera is not pointed at her as she is when it is. She looks at his hands on the steering wheel, large and rough, and she wonders if he ever used them to break someone down the way he used them to build houses up.

Sweat breaks out on her hairline.

“Well?” He asks again.

“I’m sorry. What?” She deflects, trying to hide the fact that she had lost track of the conversation.

“If he didn’t call you Anna, then what did he call you?”

It is an odd question. Something most would probably consider a small question, but she feels it like a fist to the ribs. The air sucks from her lungs, phantom pains creeping in, and she clenches the seat belt so tightly her nails nearly break flesh - eyes squeezed shut. But has to say it. She should say, she will.

She says it on a gust of courage:“Cassandra.”

The taste of the name, the shape of it, is an insidious thing that creep into her dreams at night. It is the embodiment of things he wishes would just die, but never will. She tries to press passed it.

“I was the ‘C’. His son had to be the ‘A’, had to be the first in the line. Then we just needed ‘E’, ‘F’, and ‘G’ to connect to his ‘H’  - Hans. His name is Hans and - well - I wouldn’t have been surprise if he found a way to legally force our children to name their offspring to complete the chain.”

She means it as a joke, kind of, tries to make it one, but his face falls flat. She looks back at the road, hard racing faster than the lines passing on the road. If she had known this was where this ride was going to go she never would have gotten in the car.

“So…” He seems to sense her unease but is not ready to let go just yet. He steps out with kid gloves. “Is Anna short for Cassandra?”

She thinks to lie, but changes her mind. Instead, the truth:

“No.”

She does not look at him, cannot, shame keeping her focused on the road. Maybe if she does not look at him, does not acknowledge to whom she is speaking somehow this conversation will not count.

Another tentative step: “Is it your middle name?”

“No.”

An entire mile passes before: “So why would he call you that?”

She knows the reason, hates the reason, and wishes she was a better liar. If she had just been a better liar this entire thing may have turned out differently. She may be home with her sister, never would have needed to meet someone like Hans, never would have been forced to -

“He - my - uh - ex - he uh - well - he didn’t like my name. He said it was too - uh - common? So he called me something else.” The words are automatic. He had taught them them to her but they still taste bitter on her tongue.

“So he changed your name?”

She doesn’t like the way that sounds, hasn’t even told Ariel or Belle that Hans had called her Cassandra, doesn’t know why she tells him now, but now she is regurgitating Han’s catch phrase: “Anna is a boring name for a boring person. He didn’t want to be married to someone boring.”

Two miles pass.

“It sounds like whoever this jackass was he didn’t want you, not really who you are.”

His candor is disarming. Defense of Hans springs to her lips and dies there as she remembers that is not her job anymore. He had lost the right of her protection a long time ago.

Still she is not done defending herself: “We were both young. I don’t think either of us knew what we wanted.”

“Well it sounds like he wanted to erase you.”

A niggling piece in her chest locks into place. The way he puts it is so succinct - so plain - yet she had never been able to put it so simply.

 _Erase me._ She almost laughs. _If he’d had his way he would have._

She can hardly fathom the thought so she tries to avoid it.

“Anna’s not such a great name anyway.” she shrugs as if she is not just using Hans’ lines against herself. “There are way better names out there.”

He is quiet then, jaw set tight, and she can feel his judgement. She hopes he doesn’t kick out of the truck, but they are close to Ariel’s now. She can walk, carry the car seats, the rest of the way. She can make it on her own. She can. She has.

But how could she have been so stupid?

She never should have told him what she had - never should have let him see just how weak she had been. She doesn’t know much about this man, but she can tell he doesn’t appreciate weakness. Now she is at a disadvantage and she swore long ago that she would never ever be at a disadvantage to a man ever again. She never should have told him, never should have taken his offer of a ride. He is going to meet her kids and oh shit -

“You can just let me out here.” Bile in her throat she hardly realizes they are still on the highway.

His eyes jerk towards her even as he tries to watch the road. “Are you crazy?”

“We’re almost there. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s - you know? Okay. I mean - you have places to be I’m sure and -”

Her chest feel tight. The truck’s cabin closes around her. She clutches the armrest for dear life.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down there, feisty pants. You doing okay?”

She stares at the tail lights in front of her - unable to respond.

“Look. I’m not letting you out. We’re just a few minute away. Just - chill. Okay?”

He accelerates. She tightens her grip.

It could have been days or seconds before they park in front of Ariel’s modest home in a quiet part of town. Neither of them quite seem to know what to do - so she shoves down her panic just enough to pretend like nothing ever happened.

She plasters on a grin. “Well this has been swell. I’ll just get my stuff and seats and I’ll be out of your -”

She is half way out of the car before his voice catches her: “Wait. I could - if you want - I could just drive you all home?”

And for one second she thinks she might see a crack in his strong facade. It catches her off guard. She hadn’t expect it, but she remembers just what she had let him know. She remembers the secret he holds that he doesn’t know is a secret and if there was even a snowball’s chance in hell that she would let some stranger meet her kids and drive them to their home before it melted before that implication.

She grabs her personal effects and pops open her door. “That’s okay. We’ll figure it out. You’ve done too much already.”

She has the back cab open before he can protest and is wrangling the two car seats like she always has before he is even out of his seat. She slams the back door.

“Thanks for everything!” She waves before she picks up the car seats and bumps the passenger seat closed with her hip.

She runs to Ariel’s front door and doesn’t look back. She waits to hear his truck roar away, but that doesn’t come until she is safe inside her friend’s home.


	3. Chapter 3

Her keys are in his truck.

By the time she realizes it is way too late, and she doesn't have his number. She’d been in such a rush to get out, run and hide, that she’d left them on the seat. They’d spent the night at Eric and Ariel’s, the twins in the guest bed and her on the couch. She was exhausted, but hadn’t slept more than a few hours. Her mind was racing too fast about all that had happened, everything she had said. 

She had made so many mistakes. So many stupid mistakes. If she had learned anything she has learned that mistakes come with a cost and she feels her gut tightening in anticipation.

Ariel had noticed that night and waited to ask until she handed her friend a pillow and blanket. “Are you okay?”

Anna had nodded her head vigorously and batted away her concern. “Just thinking about the car.” 

And she was - and how he had her keys. And how she had told him things about herself and her children and her ex that she had never actually put into words. 

How could she have done something so dumb? 

She has to work with this man for months if she is going to get her house. She doesn’t know for sure but she is pretty sure she isn’t going to be able to transfer worksites without credible reason and she is fairly certain running her mouth is not a credible reason.

She doesn’t know how she is going to make this one work. 

And not just her sweat equity hours.

Without a car she will have take the bus to work, to get the kids to school, to do everything and she knows down the dime how much that will cost her. Broken down as it was, her car still cost less a month than transit in both time and money and if she has to go back to that then she will most likely lose her job.

Things are tight enough as it is.

If she can’t get this sorted out in the next day or two her chances at moving on and up go from hopeful to none in a flash.

She thinks of the credit card applications on her counter and wonders how quickly she could pay it down along with everything else. The finance classes she had taken at the women’s shelter had discouraged any kind of credit use unless it was a total emergency and she wonders if this qualifies. 

She needs her car.

She needs her job.

But she doesn’t know how this works.

She doesn’t know how to make choices like this. 

Maybe Hans was right. Maybe she really wasn’t capable of doing anything on her own. Maybe all the steps she had taken up to this point had been dumb luck and now she has just run out of time. The more she tries to ignore these thoughts the faster they come until she is drowning under them.

The first signs of dawn creep over the horizon by the time she drifts off. 

…..

They eat breakfast together.

Anna and the twins in the clothes from the day before. Eric, Ariel, and Melody all in their jammies. It is Friday, but it also is one of those weird holidays Anna doesn't understand why things are closed but it means that at least she doesn't have to go to work or worry about getting the kids to school. The worksite is closed for the day and she was going to use this day for much needed catch-up but...

She tries not to worry about it, her mind still exhausted from running around in circles for the entire night, that she doesn't even realize that Brantley had asked her a question until a small hand tugs on her sleeve.

Anna turns to look at her daughter, eyes hardly focusing.

“If your car is broke how are we getting home?” 

She blanks. She stares into her daughter's wide blue eyes and cannot form a single word.

For as much as she has thought about her car and her keys and the repair she had failed to form an immediate plan. She slams into a brick wall, mind falling, and not getting back up. She blinks at the expectant child. 

“I - uh - if it is fine with your mom, I am sure that Eric or I can drive you all over there and help figure it out.” Ariel steps in and Anna flips her attention to her redheaded friend. 

"No we couldn't." She is quick to object. "You all have done too much already." 

"We were all going to run some errands to run. It would be no trouble to drop you wherever you need to go." Ariel smiled. "Plus then Eric can take a look and see what he thinks is going on with you car."

Anna could cry. When she had first met Ariel in massage therapy school she had never imagined that she would find such a fast friend. In fact she had never even considered that she could  _ have _ any friends. It had been so long -

The doorbell rings.

They all freeze for just one instant.

Eric wipes his mouth on a napkin and pushes back from the table with a look to Ariel. “Are we expecting anyone?” 

Ariel shakes her head: “Not that I know of.”

“Who is it? Who’s at the door?” Harmony’s voice follows after Eric as he heads out the kitchen down the hall to the front door. 

Even Aiden looks interested instead of his normal sullen self peering up from his cereal. 

The front door is not visible from the kitchen, but they all hear the click and rumble of low voices and it must just be a package delivery even though that is odd with the holiday. What else could it be? 

She takes another sip of her coffee, just trying to feel normal, and then she hears:

“Anna. It’s for you!”

The words hit her like lightning. 

Of all the things she thought she would hear that was never it. This isn’t her home, where anyone should be able to find her and yet they did.

What if he… she clenches her eyes against the nausea that mounts even at the idea.

She knows it cannot be Hans. He wouldn’t have any way to find her, should still be in prison, but there are a lot of things about Hans that never should have happened but did. So she stands on shaking legs and heads down the hall. Her heart accelerates with each step. 

What if it  _ is _ him? 

What if she rounds the corner and see the shark tooth grin, eyes dead and ready for blood? 

Her entire body vibrates, stomach churning, and if it wasn’t for her children staring her down from Ariel’s breakfast table she would have collapsed. She wouldn’t have been able to move, but she must put on a brave front for them. She must protect them no matter what. No matter if that means seeing  _ him.  _

She enters the foyer with every fiber of her body on fire and of all the things she had anticipated - this was not one of this. 

The light from the skylight catches the gold in his hair giving him an unearthly halo. Eric is not a small man, but he seems so standing next to the visitor. His normal worksite clothes are replaced with a worn band t-shirt so faded she cannot quite make out who it is and jeans that aren’t quite a heavy duty as what he normally wears. Brown eyes catch hers and she freezes.

He takes a step and her calves cramp to not match it in reverse. He seems to notice her tension and Eric doesn’t quite open enough to let him pass. 

Christopher shoves his hands deep into his pockets just on the other side of Eric.

She rocks back onto her heels. 

“Hi.” 

It is a miracle she can get her voice to work, unable to really formulate any thoughts beyond a greeting.

“You left your keys in my truck.” He pulls one of his hands from his pockets and withdraws her lanyard.

He extends his hand. 

Eric steps to the side as she moves forward on wooden legs to meet him. The keys are warm in her palm when she takes them careful to avoid touching those work rough hands.

“I’m sorry. I should have - I realized too late - I was going to call but I didn’t have your number and -” she makes excuses.

He shakes his head and holds up his hand. “It’s not a big deal. Actually - uh - well,” he rubs the back of his neck and looks at the floor. “I uh - I had my friend look at your car since I had your keys and it just seemed easier. I hope you don’t - I didn’t think - do you mind?”

Anna remembers the conversation from the night before. What he had said about knowing a guy, and honestly just having her keys back gives her such a sense of relief - knowing that Hans wasn’t waiting for her - that she is more okay with it than maybe she should be. She nods. 

“No that’s fine. Thank - uh - thanks. Did he - they - uh - what do I need to do? What did he say?” She clutches her keys so tight they cut into her palm, but the pain is a welcome distraction from the way her heart is pounding.

She cannot afford: a tow, a new battery, an alternator…. 

He shifts and her heart seizes. 

Eric watches from the sidelines. 

“Well. I told him what I saw and well…” He shuffles his feet and she bites her tongue. She has learned to not speak whenever she wants. “I hope this is okay but he replaced your entire battery system this morning. I drove your car over here just now to make sure it was all running okay and it seems to be great. You won’t have anymore problems from that at least.” 

The floor nearly drops out under her. She waits for the terms, conditions, to come with the generosity. She knows it always does, but he doesn’t follow up with anything. All he does is stand there in front of her with his hand stuffed in his pockets looking at the floor and she isn’t quite sure what to do. She doesn’t know how this works. 

“Oh. Okay.” Her mouth takes over. “Uh. This is Eric.” She gestures at her host. “Eric this is my site manager, Christopher.”

“It’s Kristoff but - yeah. It’s okay.” 

Heat floods her face. Of course she would get his name wrong. Why is she so stupid?

Eric steps in: “We made introductions already.” 

She meets his reassuring blue eyes and it is too much. She looks at the keys clutched in her hand and she tries to remember why this okay. Why she should be glad. Why in another lifetime she would have screamed and hugged Christopher - Kristoff - for helping her with this. Why in another lifetime she never would have had to worry about a rust bucket of a car because she had a driver with ten cars at her disposal and - 

“Oh of course.” She cuts off her own train of thought. “Do you - do you need a ride anywhere?”

She doesn’t want to drive him anywhere, doesn’t want him to meet her kids (their car seats are sitting just to the left of where she stands), but he also did her a solid. She starts calculating gas costs in her head by mileage.

What if he lives twenty miles from here and thirty from her place? That is a quarter of a week of groceries and that is better than paying for a car repair and will take it if she needs to but now she knows it is too late. 

“I’m not that far from here. If you don’t mind…” He looks sheepish in asking and she should tell him to get cab.

She has no reason to trust he fixed her car to the capacity he said he did.

If she drive him anywhere he will have to meet her kids.

Yet here she is looking into brown eyes that my have been gruff, but never cruel and she knows that is such a difference than kind and then cruel and she thinks: okay. Yeah. Maybe.

Maybe she just drives him home.

Maybe he just meets her kids.

It will only be a few minutes and she will be driving and she has taught her kids the proper legal names of every single body part in case they are interviewed ever and she has mace and a taser in her purse so…

“Okay. Thank - let me just get my kids - thank you.” 

She hopes this isn’t a mistake as she walks back towards the kitchen.


End file.
